


What Are You Doing Here? - Pt 2

by Marathon_Zack_140_6



Series: What Are You Doing Here, Miss Granger? [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dating, Established Relationship, F/M, Molly Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29781816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marathon_Zack_140_6/pseuds/Marathon_Zack_140_6
Summary: Summer before 5th Year continuation of 'What Are You Doing Here?'. ~37k words, 19 chapters, covering from a few days after Harry returns to Privet Drive, up until the last day of summer before the Hogwarts Express.Reading 'What Are You Doing Here?' isn't strictly necessary, but it is the sequel/continuation of that story so it is certainly helpful.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: What Are You Doing Here, Miss Granger? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035864
Comments: 47
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever to get this out here, I've been working on other stories and just been lazy on this one.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was going crazy.

_I would be better off called the Boy-Who-Was-Going-Insane_ , he morosely thought to himself as he lay flat on his back in the dirt underneath the living room windowsill, hidden from the world by an overly-perfectly trimmed row of shrubbery.

Harry hadn't realized just how much he had been relying on Hermione to keep him grounded and sane until he no longer had her around. So far this summer he'd swung from being too depressed about Cedric's death to do anything, to feeling overwhelmingly guilty, as if it had entirely been his own fault that Cedric had died, to recklessly wanting to hunt Voldemort down himself, and back through the list again several times over — and it had been less than forty-eight hours since he left Kings Cross station with the Dursleys.

But the lazy afternoon silence was slowly replaced by the sound of someone whistling cheerfully as they walked down Privet Drive. While this mildly peaked Harry's curiosity, as no one ever walked down Privet Drive whistling (he thought there might be some kind of law against it), let alone cheerfully ( _that_ , he was positive was illegal), he was too determined to maintain his current mood of being too depressed to do anything to move to see who it might be. His resolve was sorely tested when the whistling seemed to turn up the Dursleys' walk, but he remained strong. That is, until his unobstructed view of the lovely blue sky was suddenly obstructed by waves of bushy brown hair framing an attractive, and quite familiar face.

For some inexplicable reason, Hermione Granger's face (and hair) was staring down at him from out of the sky. Then after blinking a few times, trying to make the mirage go away, Harry finally realized that his girlfriend's face was not, in fact, floating in the sky above him, but that her entire body was standing on the other side of the shrub, here at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Uh...hi," he greeted her ever so eloquently.

"Hi, Harry!" she replied as cheerfully as always, as if finding her boyfriend lying in the dirt behind some bushes was nothing out of the ordinary. "Planning on inviting me in anytime soon?"

Just as eloquently as before, he said, "Uh...", but this time he at least began to stand up.

Hermione reached down and grabbed his arm and helped pull him up, pulling his face to hers as soon as he was on his feet, kissing him passionately. Releasing him several seconds later, she asked, "So why were you lying in the dirt behind the bushes?"

"Avoiding my aunt and uncle," replied Harry, thankful that said relations were in the kitchen and not sitting in the living room at the moment. "So what are you doing here?"

Taking his hand and twining her fingers in his, Hermione replied, "Thought you might like some company, so I took the train over to visit you."

Squeezing Hermione's hand to show her his appreciation, Harry opened the door with his other hand, and let her in. Taking the risk that his aunt and uncle would be polite to a girl, even if Vernon did remember her from the train station two days earlier (or if they weren't polite, that Hermione would set them in their places), Harry led her down the hall and into the kitchen, hoping to pilfer for them some of the lemonade that he knew his aunt made every afternoon, but never let him have any of.

~HP~

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were sitting in their kitchen enjoying a cold glass of lemonade, when they heard the front door open.

Knowing that their dearest Dudleykins was at the Polkisses' for tea, and wouldn't be home until much later, they reasoned that it must be the other boy who lived in their house, who was under no circumstance supposed to be _in_ said house during the day. Hearing footsteps approaching the kitchen, Vernon was about to launch into his best tirade when he caught site of the attractive girl following not-Dudley into the kitchen, and the words died on his lips.

She was dressed in a tight pair of jeans, and an equally fitting t-shirt that hugged her medium figure — in short, a completely normal, good-looking teenage girl that would do well for their Duddykins.

Something nudged at the back of Vernon's mind saying that she looked too familiar, and there was also the thin stick poking out the top of her back jeans pocket that didn't seem quite right, but she was too normal looking for either Vernon or Petunia to really notice either of these things. After all, if she had been one of _his kind_ , it would have been much more obvious — _his kind_ stood out like sore thumbs, or people who cheated on the water ban.

Meanwhile, as the Dursleys were staring at their unexpected guest, Harry walked over to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of lemonade, handing one to Hermione.

"Want to go up to your room?" asked Hermione as she took the glass from him, before turning around and walking sultrily out of the room with her hips swaying, towards the stairs that she knew must lead up to Harry's bedroom based on the small amount he'd told her over the four years she'd known him about his home life.

Taking advantage of the Dursleys' continued temporary stunned silence at everything, Harry quickly hurried after her, his own lemonade in hand.

As soon as Harry entered his room room after her — and she'd taken both of their drinks and set them down on his desk — Hermione lost no time in pouncing on her boyfriend, knocking him over backwards onto his bed. Several minutes later, having thoroughly greeted him properly (and needing to come up for air), she sat back on her knees, looking down at Harry.

"So how have you been?"

~HP~

Several hours later, Harry and Hermione were lounging on Harry's bed, reading.

Their new booklists were still at least a month away from being sent out based on the previous four years, but as Hermione didn't want to spend the entire afternoon snogging (not that they hadn't done their fair share), and Harry wasn't in the mood that day for talking about the night in the graveyard, they had settled on reading Harry's fourth year books over again. Besides simply being good review during the time in which neither of them could actually practice any magic since they were both in all practicality muggleborns and didn't have at least one magical adult in either of their houses to prevent the Trace from being usable, Hermione also thought that if Harry could have a better understanding of the theory behind Potions before going into the new school year, and therefore be more proficient at the subject once classes started, then Snape would have less ammunition to abuse Harry with — not that Snape would ever actually leave Harry alone, but it would be harder for the greasy-haired bat.

Harry's concentration on a particularly tricky little concoction was interrupted by the bushy-haired bookworms' voice asking him curiously, "I've been meaning to ask you something, Harry. I know you've said you have more money in your vault than you could ever need, and you had no hesitation giving the TriWizard money away, but just how much _do_ you have in your vault? — If you don't mind me asking," she finished hurriedly.

"I've never had a chance to count it," replied Harry honestly, as he thought hard, trying to picture the inside of his vault in his mind. "But I do know there are several mounds of gold roughly the size of Hedwig's cage over there, tall columns of silver going up to the stony roof, and heaps of knuts haphazardly strewn in between. And that's just what I've seen from the doorway and stepping in to fill my money bag. The back of the vault's always been in the shadows, and I've never really looked past the obvious piles I could see."

Hermione nodded slowly, clearing thinking to herself, but she didn't ask any more questions, and after a while went back to reading, so Harry did the same. Whatever his girlfriend was thinking, she would tell him when she was ready.

Late that afternoon, Hermione departed Privet Drive with a final kiss and the promise to return within a few days, as soon as she could. Spirits buoyed by her visit, and the promise of not being stuck alone all summer, Harry contentedly ignored the dirty looks his aunt and uncle started giving him, suspicious of who this female was that was willing to hang out with him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was three days before Hermione was able to make the trip again.

But the day before she was available to meet him again she sent him a letter via Hedwig letting him know she'd be coming, so Harry wasn't left alone long enough to resort back to his moody, temperamental self that he'd been the day and a half before she'd come for her first visit. Deciding it best to avoid his aunt and uncle as much as possible, Harry returned the owl with a note telling her to meet him at the park she'd passed on the way from the train station to his house on her first visit. As hot as it'd been so far that summer, Harry knew there was little chance of them being overheard by anyone at the park, since no one would be there.

Walking through the empty, desolate park, he kicked a few dried-out weeds, when he heard someone yelling his name. Looking up, he saw that Hermione had entered the park from the other side, and was waving and yelling at him from under the only tree in the park, and the only semblance of shade in a several mile radius.

Harry had barely sat down next to her when she exclaimed almost accusingly, "You never told me you own Sleekeazy!"

"Own what?" asked Harry, completely confused — he didn't own anything, a full vault at Gringotts excluded.

"Sleekeazy's Hair Potion! When I told you after the Yule Ball last year about how all the girls in my dorm were using Sleekeazy to fix their hair up for the Ball, you never told me that you own it!"

Harry stared at her in surprise for several seconds, before answering slowly, "If I do, I certainly didn't know it. Are you sure?"

"Of course I am, Harry," admonished Hermione. "Your grandfather started the Sleekeazy Corporation in 1926, and it's still in the Potter family. Which means _you_ now own it, since you're the only remaining Potter. Also, the Potters were already a very wealthy, very powerful wizarding family before Fleamont ever started Sleekeazy. Your parents and grandparents never lived lavishly by any accounts, which means all that money still has to be somewhere."

"How did you find all this out?" asked Harry, still staring at her in shock. He knew Hermione was a walking library, but he'd never heard anyone mention Potter in connection to Sleekeazy, and it seemed an odd bit of trivia to pick up from school books.

"After you mentioned how much money you had in your vault, it got me thinking, and I tried to do some rough calculations based on what you said of how much your vault's value probably is. So when I came to a rough estimate of fifty-thousand galleons, and possibly more than that, I got my mum to take me to Diagon Alley the next day to find some books that might explain why you'd have _that_ much money as an eleven year old.

"That was too much money for both for a moderately well-to-do family, and an extremely well-to-do family. Had it only been twenty or thirty-thousand, then I would have said your parents were moderately well-to-do, and just left you the whole thing since it was easier than trying to split it up into different vaults. But if their entire worth _was_ fifty-thousand, that's enough to give you ten or twenty-thousand for school, and then the remaining thirty or forty-thousand once you came of age. Now, if they were the Malfoys, it'd be one thing for them to leave you with an extravagant amount of money, but your parents seemed like they'd want to raise you to be reasonable with money — which you definitely are.

"But from what I calculated, they left you fifty-thousand or more in a vault you theoretically had access to from the moment they were murdered when you were only fifteen months old. It just didn't make any sense. And it's not like your parents' murder came as a surprise to them, and they died without ever having the chance to set their affairs in order. They knew Voldemort was after them for a substantial amount of time before their actual murders occurred, and there was a war going on since long before you were born that was constantly claiming people's lives unexpectedly. My point being, it's not like they mistakenly assumed they were going to be able to raise you your entire school years, and so hadn't prepared for their deaths and your upbringing at all, and you ended up with the entire amount all at once.

"Because estimating from my own four years of experience attending Hogwarts, removing my love of books from the equation, to make it through seven years of school, or really only six until you come of age at seventeen, you need less than a thousand galleons. So even to make sure you weren't lacking anything during school, five to ten thousand would be more than enough. So them giving you the full fifty thousand or more that's in your vault, if that was their entire worth, didn't make any sense. The interest alone over seven years should cover your schooling needs, and as a wizard you could legitimately live off of fifty thousand galleons your entire life — far less if you were a Weasley. And I'm not sure all nine of them combined will go much over that — but I'm getting off topic.

"Getting back to your vault, Sirius told you when you stopped Pettigrew and rescued him, that your parents appointed him as your guardian in case anything happened to them. And Sirius then offered to let you come live with him, which means he has a house and the resources to raise you for what would have been the next three or four years, depending on whether you count your of-age seventh year — which knowing Sirius as we do, he definitely would have included your final Hogwarts year when he invited you to go live with him. And that's all besides the fact he bought you the nicest racing broom that's ever been built as a Christmas present, which was a very pretty penny. So he can't be hurting for money, either.

"Which means it's not like your parents would have thought you'd need money to pay for somewhere to live if they died. And even if they had wanted to make sure you did have money for that just in case it was necessary, it would make more sense to have a separate vault just for that scenario — kind of like the Bribe-the-Ministry Vault I'm sure the Malfoys have and keep well-stocked. And it's not in the least bit difficult to set up a vault at Gringotts — I could even as an underage muggleborn witch if I wanted to. Because my parents actually asked about setting up a vault in Gringotts for my schooling the first time we visited the summer before my first year. _They_ were turned down because only wizards are allowed to set up vaults, but the goblin said that _I_ could set one up if I wanted to. They didn't decide to go that route with me, but my point being, vaults aren't that hard to set up.

"So given all of that, when I went to Diagon Alley on Tuesday with my mum, I got some books on prominent wizarding families of the nineteenth and early twentieth century to see if I could find any Potters. And the very first one I looked through proved true my suspicions that that can't be your only vault. The book was on major wizarding inventions of the past couple centuries, and your grandfather, Fleamont Potter, invented Sleekeazy hair potion — which is still a very prominent business to this day, something anyone who hangs around in girls dormitories much at all knows. It's just that the Potter name has never directly been attached to the company, so most people don't know it's the Potters', because they don't read about things like that.

"But as I continued reading through all of the rest of the books I bought, it turns out your family's actually a lot more important than they've appeared over the past couple generations. The Potters used to be a very prominent family, which in the wizarding world has always meant money. So while I can't give any guesses as to what you're actually worth, it's a whole lot more than the galleons you've got in your vault that you've had access to since first year."

As Hermione wrapped up her story, Harry simply sat there staring at her, still trying to absorb everything she'd told him. After letting him sit there like that for a minute or two, she leaned over and pecked him lightly on the lips to bring him back into reality and out of his shock.

"So...you're saying I'm wealthy beyond my dreams?" Harry asked slowly, trying to comprehend everything Hermione had just told him.

"Well, I certainly can't say for sure, Harry," answered Hermione cautiously, "but from what I've read it seems possible. Probable, even. But we should visit Gringotts to find out for sure. Also, I need to look up the creatures you saw pulling the carriages, that I didn't have time to do on Tuesday."

"I don't know how happy my relatives would be about me leaving Privet Drive, though," said Harry.

"Do you normally ever see them during the day?" asked Hermione.

When Harry shook his head, she continued on slightly mischievously, "Then I don't think a little day trip they never know about will hurt anyone. And you could definitely stand to get away from this place for a day."

So Harry and Hermione spent the rest of their day together walking the streets of Little Whinging, talking and planning their excursion to Diagon Alley and Gringotts. By the time Hermione left to catch the last train back home that evening, they had everything all planned out.


	3. Chapter 3

Early the next morning, Harry snuck down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast before anyone else in the house woke up.

Wand concealed in his back pocket, he left his relatives' house and walked to the train station near Little Whinging, where he rode the train into London, to the stop nearest the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Arriving, he found Hermione already waiting for him on the train platform, eager to start their day. They strolled down the streets of muggle London through the early morning walking traffic, until they finally reached the Leaky Cauldron and pushed open the door only they and other wizards could see, slipping inside.

Ten minutes later, they walked up the gleaming white marble steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Walking inside, Harry spotted the goblin who had led him to his vault the very first time he'd ever been there, when Hagrid had introduced Harry to the wizarding world. Walking up, he started to tell Griphook his name, but before he could Griphook spoke.

"Harry Potter."

He paused and stared at Harry for several seconds, looking him over, before finally continuing, "Come to visit your vault again?"

"Not specifically, actually..." began Harry slowly, unsure of how exactly to ask his question.

Fortunately, Hermione took over for him. "Harry wants to know his total worth, since it's a little hard to actually count the coinage itself."

Harry looked at her, quite impressed. She had managed to give the goblin an opening to tell him about his entire worth, without ever actually saying or even insinuating that there was more than just what was in vault 687.

Griphook looked over at Hermione now, studying her carefully. Finally coming to some decision, he gave a curt "This way" as he hopped off his stool and opened the door behind him and began walking down the hall. Leading them a long way down a twisty hallway, he finally led them into a luxuriously appointed conference room.

As Harry looked around at the room, he heard Hermione gasp next to him. Looking over at where she was pointing, he gasped as well. There, on the far wall, was a set of small portraits, organized like a horizontal tree. And in the next to last frame, the last one that actually had a portrait in it, were his parents. Though Harry had only seen photos (and reflections in the Mirror of Erised) of his parents before, and never a portrait, they were unmistakable. To their right was an empty frame, and to their left was just one frame; clearly his dad's parents, as they looked nothing like his mum or Aunt Petunia. From there the portraits stretched back to the left, all of Harry's magical ancestors. Beneath his grandparent's portrait were the words "Sleekeazy Hair Potion" in flowing golden print. There were other words written below other various portraits, but before Harry could try to read any of them, Griphook cleared his throat. Looking back over at the goblin, Harry and Hermione took seats on one side of the table as Griphook took a seat on the other.

"This is the Potter Boardroom, where all official Gringotts business is conducted for the Potter Estate. When you were first brought to Gringotts four years ago, we had been given strict orders by the wizard Dumbledore to only show you the vault you had access to, and not disclose any information about the rest of the Potter Estate. However, as goblins do not recognize the authority of wizards, and your muggleborn friend here appears to already know to some extent about the existence of more than just vault 687, it is my discretion to inform you about your entire inheritance. While none of what I tell you today will be available to you until you come of age in a little over two years, it is of my opinion that you would do well to know about it now.

"Vault 687 was a school fund set up by your great-great grandparents to enable their children to get through their first six years of Hogwarts on their own. The vault started with a substantial, but reasonable amount of gold for four children. Through a combination of all the children being frugal, one dying in an unfortunate flying accident before their fourth year, and interest, the vault had nearly as much gold in it when the youngest child graduated Hogwarts as it did when it was set up. Continued interest, only one child in each of the two subsequent generations, and extended periods of time between the birth of each generation due to the natural longevity of wizards, and the vault has expanded to the amount that it is today. Which, if you're curious, is currently sixty-thousand, six hundred twenty-five galleons. Including sickles and knuts, that amount rises to just over sixty-two thousand galleons."

As he said this, he pressed on the wooden table with one of his long fingers, and as if by magic, the numbers 60,625 and 62,073 glowed on the surface of the table.

"However, as your friend is clearly aware of, that is knuts in comparison to the actual value of the Potter Estate. As you may have noticed on the portrait wall, beneath every family member who invented something, or created a company, or in some other way substantially increased the Potter family wealth, are their notable achievements. Your portrait will be filled in when you come of age at seventeen, and officially become the head of the Potter Estate. But in total, your family owns eight active companies, several quite old and still flourishing. Additionally, you own seven houses, all of which we have portkeys for. The two largest and oldest are Peverell Manor and Potter Manor. The majority of your house-elves are stationed at these two houses."

At the mention of house-elves, Harry glanced over at Hermione, but apparently she assumed the Potters had treated their house elves at least as well as Hogwarts, for she had no indication of disapproval in her expression.

"There are a few other things your family solicitors will tell you about when you come of age in two years, but that is a reasonable summary of what you own," continued Griphook. "There is, of course, a much larger family vault in the high security section that you will gain access to once you come of age, as well.

"The actual amount of galleons contained in that vault is not substantially larger than what the student vault is currently up to, as there is little use to have more than sixty-thousand actual galleons lying around merely earning interest. All of the interest earned from that vault is immediately invested by the estate solicitors, and most of the actual family wealth is also invested or in holdings like land, of which the estate also has a very sizable collection spread across the world. There is, however, a very large collection of jewels, crowns, armors, swords, and the like of physical objects of great value stored in there, that are worth far more combined than the galleons in the vault.

"But even we goblins are not allowed to open your family vault for you until you come of age, unless in some time of great emergency, so you will have to wait until you turn seventeen to actually see all of that. Now, unless you or your girlfriend have any further questions, I can take you to your vault to refill your moneybag, and then I must get back to work."

"How do you know Hermione's my girlfriend?" asked Harry in surprise. "I didn't think anything ever got out of Hogwarts — nothing important seems to, anyway."

"Rita," mumbled Hermione under her breath to him, but Griphook answered anyway, giving an answer that surprised even her.

"Even amongst goblins, Harry Potter is very famous. Dumbledore is not the only one keeping an eye on you. He keeps an eye on you because of your defeat of Tom Riddle Jr, and his belief that you are the key to defeating Tom Riddle Jr permanently — we like keeping an eye on the only heir to the largest wizarding fortune in Britain."

"Who could you have keeping an eye on me? Everyone at Hogwarts is a wizard," said Harry, confused.

"Is that so, Mr Potter?" replied Griphook. "I would have thought with your friendship with the muggleborn, you would know better than that by now."

It only took Harry a second to realize who the goblin must be talking about. "House elves!?"

"Your very own, to be specific. The Potter house elves have always had a couple stationed at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the children Potters. And then the former Malfoy house elf, I believe you are well-acquainted with the house elf Dobby, also volunteered to help keep an eye on you for us."

~HP~

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Hermione walked out of Gringotts, Harry with a full moneybag.

As it was already almost time for lunch, they walked back down the street to the brick entrance from the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, and entered the pub. A pleasant lunch later, and they were back on the bright street of Diagon Alley making their way to Flourish and Blotts, for Hermione to look up the horse-like creatures Harry had seen pulling the Hogwarts carriages. But on their way, they passed by the Magical Menagerie, giving Hermione a sudden idea. Grabbing Harry's arm, she pulled him inside with her.

The store was fortunately empty, and the young, perky saleswitch who'd sold Hermione Crookshanks two years earlier quickly arrived to help them.

"What can I do for you today?" she asked, before adding, "And how is Crookshanks doing?"

"He's great," answered Hermione. "Loves it at Hogwarts, and doesn't seem too grumpy at home over the summer. But I came here because there's a creature I'm trying to figure out the name of, so I can get some books on it in Flourish and Blotts. And I was hoping maybe you might know what kind of creature it is."

"Well, I'll definitely give it my best shot," answered the saleswitch cheerfully. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, first off, Harry here can see it while I, and at least most of the other students at Hogwarts can't, but I could definitely feel it when I reached out and touched where Harry said it was — so it's not an apparition, or ghost, or hallucination, or anything like that," said Hermione. "And — correct me if I'm wrong here, Harry — but I believe you described it as mostly horse-like, but with a rather dragonish face, bat-like wings, just appropriately sized for a horse, and their weird-feeling coats were hanging tightly on their skeletons."

The saleswitch looked at Harry and asked, "Have you ever seen someone die? And since you mentioned Hogwarts, I assume you saw them pulling the carriages but never had before, so more specifically did you see someone die since the previous time you saw the carriages?"

"Uh, yeah," answered Harry, surprised by the strange question.

"They're thestrals," explained the saleswitch. "I'll let you look them up more thoroughly at Blotts, but in short they can only be seen by someone who has seen death. Because of this they're often considered unlucky, but they're actually very useful for flying long distances, as they're superb at getting to where you tell them to go. They're definitely a surprise the first time you see them, if you are unfortunate enough to see them —or at least they were when I saw them for the first time a few years back at the start of my sixth year at Hogwarts, but they're really quite peaceable creatures once you get to know them."

"See, Harry — you're not going insane. They really exist, and there's a perfectly good explanation for why only you could see them," said Hermione quietly to her boyfriend, before turning back to the saleswitch and adding cheerfully, "Thank you! I was wondering how exactly I was going to look them up in the bookshop, especially since none of the books I already had on magizoology had them in them."

"Of course, any time," replied the saleswitch. "I'm just glad to have something to do besides watch the animals — early summer is rather a downtime for us. Everyone has just got back from Hogwarts so we don't have the late summer traffic of students, and there's no holidays around now either for people to be buying pets as presents. Not that I don't sometimes prefer being alone with the animals, but if that's all I have all day, it can get a little lonely. So it's nice to have someone just to talk to every now and then."

They chatted a while longer, before Harry and Hermione eventually left, walking down the street to Flourish and Blotts. Once inside, she quickly asked the saleswizard where the books on thestrals were, before proceeding to grab a dozen of the books off the appropriate shelf to buy.

As Harry raised his eyebrows at her slightly, Hermione shrugged, "Can't have too many books to get a thorough, well-rounded learning about a subject."

"Well, at least let the guy who just found out he's basically a wizarding billionaire buy them for you," replied Harry. "Your parents might be less of the inclination that you need a dozen books to learn about thestrals."

"They're dentists with their own practice, remember? Not exactly lacking financially," replied Hermione, rolling her eyes. "And anyway, they're really strong supporters of me learning everything I can — the girl who's going to change the wizarding world can never know too much. But if it would make you feel better, I won't stop you."

So after Harry had payed for the dozen books on thestrals, and another dozen books Hermione had grabbed on the walk from the thestral section of the store to the checkout counter, they walked down the street to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, to get an ice cream and begin reading about these strange creatures only those who'd seen death could see.

~HP~

Several hours and even more ice cream sundaes later (Florean was still a big fan of Harry's, and still wanted to give the Boy-Who-Lived and his girlfriend free ice cream as he chatted with them about thestrals), Harry and Hermione headed back to the Leaky Cauldron for supper.

After eating, they took the train back to the Little Whinging station, Hermione coming with Harry since it wasn't too late yet. Getting off the train, Hermione walked with Harry to the park they'd met in the day before, before saying goodbye to him.

"It'll be at least Monday before I can make it back, so have a good weekend," Hermione said as she gave him a hug and a kiss.

"I'm just grateful you can come at all," replied Harry sincerely. "This summer isn't looking to be nearly as miserable as usual."

As Harry walked back to Number Four Privet Drive on his own, he thought back over everything he had learned that day, from his wealth to the strange thestral creatures he'd seen pulling the carriages at Hogwarts as they'd left a week before. He really didn't know what he'd do if it wasn't for his amazing girlfriend — from even before they'd ever started dating.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning, a week after they had returned from Hogwarts, and two weeks after Fudge had refused to accept the fact of Voldemort's return, Hermione was eating breakfast reading the morning's Daily Prophet.

Suddenly she gasped, making her parents look up at her in concern from across the table.

"Dear?" asked Hermione's mum.

Hermione looked up, realizing she must have made a noise out loud.

"Remember how I told you that the Minister of Magic refused to believe Harry's report that Voldemort has a body again, and subsequently Dumbledore's belief of Harry?" she said. "Well, I knew he controlled the Prophet, and so wouldn't let any story about Voldemort's return be published, silencing the story so most of the people wouldn't know what Harry and Dumbledore were 'fearmongering', as he would put it. What I didn't realize is that he would go so far as to slander Harry and Dumbledore — or libel, technically, as it's in writing. But there's a story in here about this witch in Wales who had what sounds like a pretty bad flying broomstick accident the other day, but instead of just reporting the facts, like a newspaper should, they wrote in their article, and I quote, 'Let's hope she hasn't got a scar on her forehead or we'll be asked to worship her next.' A clear defamation of Harry's character, and an attempt to turn Harry into someone nobody will believe. I have to tell Harry about this — I doubt he's reading cover to cover to see it."

And with that she rushed off to her room to grab a pen and sheet of paper. Returning to the kitchen a minute later, she resumed eating as she began writing.

~*~

Hi Harry,

As I'm sure you're mostly just scanning through the Prophet looking for anything that looks like Voldemort's handiwork, you probably won't see Fudge's latest attack on truth. He's stepped up his game from merely censoring any story acknowledging that Voldemort is back to full power, and is now deliberately slandering you to try to keep everyone from believing you if they do somehow catch wind of you proclaiming the truth of Voldemort's return.

Page eight, Wales broomstick crash article, instead of sticking to the facts, the writer wrote, 'Let's hope she hasn't got a scar on her forehead or we'll be asked to worship her next.' We knew Fudge was going to fight hard against the truth, but he's really gone all out.

Just thought you should be aware, and on the lookout for more since I seriously doubt this will be the only time the Prophet drags your name through the mud. But otherwise, hope you're having a good weekend, and I'll see you Monday, our park, nine am.

Love, your girlfriend,

Hermione

~*~

Looking up at her parents, she asked, "It's okay if I go visit Harry on Monday, right?"

"Of course, dear," answered her mum. "But when are you going to invite him here?"

"Harry's relatives won't let him take the train to visit any of 'our' kind," replied Hermione sadly. "They probably wouldn't be happy knowing we're going into London together, but they don't know, so they haven't forbidden it like they have him coming to visit me, or anyone else magical."

"Won't they get suspicious when he's gone all day?" asked her dad.

"Sadly, no," sighed Hermione, wishing yet again that she could do more for Harry about his home situation. "As long as he's not in their hair, or basically visible at all, they don't care where he is. And honestly, I could invite him over here and they'd never know, but that is the one thing they've expressly forbidden to him, so I can't ask him to do that."

"Well, I know you two have a rough time at Hogwarts, but at least he has there to escape to most of the year," said her mum.

At that moment, Hedwig pecked on the glass patio door, on her daily visit to see if Hermione had anything to send to Harry. So Hermione sealed up her letter, and went over and tied it to Hedwig's leg, taking the owl a couple strips of bacon as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there's been a bit of a debate about the previous chapter — Hogwarts is Harry’s escape. Mrs G is acknowledging that they have a difficult time there, but that even so it is still better than Privet Drive. Sorry if that was not as clear as I thought it was when I wrote it.

The following week, Hermione visited Harry twice.

Both times they went into London — spending the mornings exploring the city, Hermione showing Harry all of the sights he'd been denied seeing growing up with the Dursleys, and spending the afternoons wandering around Diagon Alley, checking out all the stores and just generally enjoying being around magic and other witches and wizards.

But on Friday morning, Hermione was sitting in her kitchen eating breakfast with her mum when there came a knock at the door. Her mum got up and went to see who was knocking that early. After a few seconds, Hermione heard talking, but it was too far away for her to hear what her mum and the visitor were saying.

But not long after, her mum called out, "Hermione, dear, you have some visitors!"

Wondering who it could possibly be, as she hadn't had any muggle friends before discovering she was a witch and certainly didn't now, and there weren't any witches or wizards who would have any reason to be visiting her in person without sending an owl first to let her know and Harry was of course forbidden from visiting any of 'his kind' over the summer, Hermione walked to the door.

"Hermione! How good to see you again!" exclaimed a voice far too saccharinely, and Hermione came face to face with none other than Mrs Weasley, who somehow had learned where she lived — she was blaming McGonagall or Dumbledore for that one, as they should have been the only people in the wizarding world besides Harry to know.

Ginny was also there, and Hermione supposed the Matriarch thought she was putting on a more friendly appearance by having another girl about Hermione's own age with her, though whether that was more for Hermione's benefit or her mum's, Hermione didn't know. She also didn't care — there was no reasonable reason for Mrs Weasley to be at her muggle doorstep without owling first, and there was pretty much no good reason for her to be there at all now that the only Weasleys she and Harry were friends with were the twins.

"Hi, Hermione," added Ginny brightly, but Hermione merely crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe staring at them, waiting for Mrs Weasley to get to explaining why she was there.

After several seconds of clearly expecting a much warmer greeting than she got, Mrs Weasley finally did start explaining. "Hermione, dear, a sizable number of us are gathering because of — you know — everything that happened at the end of last term. And so we came to bring you there with everyone as well," she said, cutting her eyes over at Hermione's mum when she hinted at Voldemort's return, as if thinking that actually saying what had happened at the end of the previous term would make Hermione's mum refuse to allow Hermione to return to the magical world.

"You mean, when Harry and Cedric were transported to an abandoned graveyard by one of our teachers, where Cedric was then murdered on Voldemort's orders by your pet rat and Harry's blood was used to give Voldemort a new body, and Harry defeated Voldemort in a head-to-head duel before bringing Cedric's dead body back to Hogwarts and informing Dumbledore that Voldemort had a body again? Is that why you're gathering?" asked Hermione rhetorically, since it was all information she'd already told her mum and dad the moment she got back from Hogwarts so they'd have an understanding of the war that was now going on in the shadows all around them, and she wanted Mrs Weasley to know that her parents knew everything. "And I'm guessing you have zero intentions of actually giving me a choice in whether I go or not."

Mrs Weasley just stared in shock at Hermione, as did Ginny. After a few seconds, Hermione realized that Ginny probably hadn't heard several parts of what she'd just said, as Dumbledore hadn't mentioned it all in his speech at the Closing Feast, and it didn't seem as though Mrs Weasley had told her either, assuming by this point that Mrs Weasley would have heard the entire story from Dumbledore if they really were finally gathering people.

Eventually though, Mrs Weasley composed herself enough from hearing Hermione say everything in front of her mum that Mrs Weasley had assumed Mrs Granger knew nothing about, and from hearing the forbidden word 'Voldemort' no fewer than four times in a single sentence, and said patronizingly, "I really must insist you come with us — it's for your own protection, dear. If You-Know-Who discovered that you have connections with those fighting against him, it could put you and your parents in serious danger. You'll be much safer with us."

Thinking it incredibly underhanded of the redhead to pull the 'it's for your protection' schtick, Hermione simply asked, "Is Harry there?"

"He will be soon," replied Mrs Weasley smoothly, as if she'd spent a long time practicing her obvious lie. "Dumbledore doesn't think it's best for Harry to come quite yet — but soon."

"Then send me an owl when he does get there," replied Hermione, knowing it would do no good whatsoever — Mrs Weasley had come to kidnap her away from her parents, and no power on earth was going to stop her, not even You-Know-Who himself had he been standing guard outside the door of the Grangers' house.

Once again, it took the redhead several seconds to be able to answer, clearly not used to anyone to challenging her orders.

"Dear, I'm afraid I really must insist. Dumbledore insists. This is for your own safety, along with that of you parents."

Hermione had no clue how her being at her parents or being with the Weasleys was going to affect her parents' safety, for if the Death Eaters or any other enemy could discover where she lived to begin with, it wouldn't matter whether she was actually there or not for them to murder her parents.

But she knew it would be hopeless at the moment to try to fight against the Matriarch, so she simply said with a roll of her eyes, "Let me get my trunk." Turning to her mum, she added, "Sorry, mum. Looks like I'm not being given a choice to spend my summer with you and dad, or even to say goodbye to dad before not being allowed to see you guys again for eleven months," before immediately heading towards her room, leaving her mum behind to glare at the older woman taking her daughter away from her.

Returning with her trunk several minutes later, Hermione gave her mum a hug and a kiss on the cheek, bidding her goodbye for another eleven and a half months, before turning and glaring wordlessly at Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley turned and led her and Ginny down the walk and to the road. Then she stuck up her wand hand, and a second later the purple Knight Bus screeched to a halt in front of them. The three of them climbed onboard, and one rough ride later, they climbed back off in front of a little unkempt grass square in what Hermione thought was Islington based on the last few buildings they had passed on the bus's route.

As they walked through the square, Mrs Weasley handed her a slip of parchment, saying, "Read this, dear."

After Hermione had stared in confusion at the words ' _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_ ' for several seconds trying to figure out what it all meant and why Mrs Weasley was having her read it, Mrs Weasley pulled it back out of Hermione's hands and stuffed it back in her pocket, coming to a stop at the edge of the grass.

"Concentrate on what you just read, dear, as you look at those houses."

Hermione looked up at the houses across the street, and quickly noticed that the numbers skipped from eleven to thirteen, skipping over number twelve that the note had mentioned. But no sooner had she thought this, than the buildings seemed to expand, and a number twelve magically appeared between eleven and thirteen.

"What kind of charm is this?" Hermione asked curiously as the three of them walked across the street to the grimy, battered door of number twelve.

"Very advanced magic, that will keep you perfectly safe," replied the Matriarch cheerfully, as if she thought Hermione too young and not mature enough to be told the actual name of the charm.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Mrs Weasley tapped on the door with her wand to unlock it, making mental notes of everything that had occurred leading up to her being able to see the house, so that she could look it up on her own later to find out what the charm was.

As they stepped inside, the first thing Hermione noticed was how absolutely wretched the place was, even worse than the outside that looked like an abandoned dump heap in an already derelict neighborhood. It had a damp, dusty, rotting smell, the wallpaper was peeling, the chandeliers and gas lamps were cobwebbed over, and the entire place looked like it was coated in twenty years worth of grime and dirt. Why on earth they were assembling in a house that simply put, felt _dead_ , Hermione had no clue.

"Go on and join the others, I'll get Hermione settled in," said Mrs Weasley to Ginny as they stepped inside, and the younger girl headed off up the creaky stairs.

"We're cleaning all the rooms to make this place a little nicer looking," explained Mrs Weasley to Hermione as she led them down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

Stepping into the kitchen, the first place in the house that Hermione had seen that looked almost habitable, they were met by Sirius and a cute blonde chick that Hermione thought looked to be a few years older than herself.

"Hi Hermione — welcome to Grimmauld Place, the home I grew up in that I’d hoped I'd never have to set foot in again," greeted Sirius dryly. "And this is Tonks, my cousin."

"Pleasure to finally meet you — Sirius has told me all about you," said Tonks, holding out her hand for Hermione to shake, which she promptly did.

"So what is the Order of the Phoenix, and why is it meeting here of all places?" asked Hermione, looking around. "No disrespect, Sirius, to your family home, but this place is a complete dump that would be condemned in a heartbeat by any muggle health inspector."

"None taken in the least," replied Sirius. "And the Order of the Phoenix is the group of us who fought against Voldemort the first time around — plus a few new recruits like Tonks here — who are fighting against him again since the Ministry refuses to pull their heads out of their arses. And we're meeting here because my family put every charm they could think of on this place to keep it from being discoverable by anyone they didn't want to. So while the house itself might kill you, there won't be any Death Eaters getting in to kill you."

"That's enough, Sirius!" barked Mrs Weasley. "Tell her any more and you might just as well induct her into the Order straightaway!" Turning to Hermione, she continued saccharinely, "Come on dear, I'll just show you up to your room that you'll be sharing with Ginny and get you settled in, and then after lunch you can join us helping clean up this place and make it look a little nicer."

Hermione figured she had more of a right to be a part of the group fighting Voldemort than Mrs Weasley did, given the fact she'd actually helped Harry fight Voldemort before even if she'd never come face to face with the tyrant herself yet, and she'd never heard in four years of a single thing Mrs Weasley had ever done to stop Voldemort other than refuse to say his name and wince when she heard it, but Hermione could already tell that the Matriarch always got her way around there, and so it would just be a giant waste of time to ask to be inducted.

So instead she walked over to Tonks and whispered quietly into the older girl's ear, "This house seems huge — is it actually necessary to double up rooms?"

Tonks shook her head.

Turning back to Mrs Weasley, Hermione said politely but firmly, "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I'm not sharing a room with your daughter. I'll share a room with _her_ " — here she nodded over towards Tonks next to her — "if she'll have me, or else sleep in a room of my own, but I'm not sharing a room with Ginny."

Based on what Ron had let slip the day after Christmas the previous year, Mrs Weasley was trying to force Harry to marry Ginny one day, and her to marry Ron, and the overbearing woman had already taken her away from her parents and by extension Harry that morning — there was no way in bloody hell she was sharing a room with any of them. She may not have got to know this Tonks girl yet, but she seemed nice enough, and Hermione had always had a knack for being able to tell what kind of person someone was just from a first encounter.

The Matriarch stared at Hermione in shock, once again not used to anyone refusing to bow to her every whim, but Hermione merely crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at the older woman defiantly.

Tonks and Sirius watched the scene with interest for several long seconds, until it became clear that the staredown could go on forever, so Tonks piped up, "I'll take you up to my room, Hermione. I can conjure up another bed, and there's plenty of room in there."

Then she walked out of the kitchen, Hermione following right behind her. Hermione wondered for a second if Mrs Weasley would try to stop them, but apparently the Matriarch could tell she was outnumbered three to one, and so merely glared at their backs as they exited, before turning to glare at Sirius for a while longer after they'd left for not siding with her and stopping them.

As Hermione and Tonks reached the landing they'd first come in on, Tonks flicked her wand at Hermione's trunk, levitating it in front of them so they wouldn't have to carry it up the stairs.

She also said in a low tone as they passed by a portrait frame with curtains covering it, "That's a portrait of Sirius's mummy dearest that we can't remove, that screams its head off any time it's awoken — usually by my clumsiness or some argument someone's having with Mrs W. And let's just say, Sirius's mum is _not_ happy having a bunch of people who aren't strict purebloods in her house."

Continuing up the stairs past a row of shrunken house elf heads, Tonks continued on, "When the Black family house elves became too old to be useful, they would chop off their heads and mount them. The house is just down to one house elf now, Kreacher, who's spent the last decade serving the portrait of Sirius's mum, followed by suddenly not being allowed to do anything by Mrs W and the sudden influx of non-family and non-purebloods, so he's understandably in a right state right now. Sirius thinks he's senile and a nutter, and won't even try to understand the shock Kreacher is going through, while Mrs W more or less simply pretends Kreacher doesn't even exist, I guess because for whatever strange reason the Weasleys haven't had any house elves of their own for generations despite being an ancient pureblood family. And everyone else pretty much just follows the marching orders of those two. Dumbledore's half-heartedly told Sirius and some other people that they should treat Kreacher nicer, but he hasn't actually done anything to make them be nicer to the house elf, or kick them out if they don't. And I'll admit, Kreacher's definitely a strange one, but he spent almost his entire, quite long life serving the Blacks, who for the most part have been very Malfoy-like in their purebloodedness, and now has suddenly been thrown into the completely opposite world while being denied the ability to do what his purpose in life is — serving. So it's little surprise he's gone a little around the bend, and it's sadly probably only going to get worse the longer they keep treating him like they are."

By this point they had made it up to the fourth floor and walked partway down the hall.

Stopping between two doors, Tonks said, "My room's that one, but the room next to it is empty, if you want your own room. I just told Mrs W you could share my room since the empty room hasn't been cleaned at all yet, and there's no way she would even grudgingly acquiesce to letting you sleep in a room she hasn't approved of as being cleaned. And the house definitely has a lot of dangerous things in it, but I'm an auror, and you're the smartest student at Hogwarts, so between us we can easily make it safe enough to sleep in for tonight, and keep working on it some each day until it's completely clean — just be alert and stay away from anything we haven't looked at yet."

As Tonks pushed open the door to the empty room, Hermione said, "Sirius wasn't kidding when he said the house might kill us even if Death Eaters and Voldemort can't, was he?"

"Unfortunately, no," replied Tonks. "A decade of abandonment after centuries of what would now be considered dark wizards, even though they never joined ranks with Voldemort, Grindelwald, or any of the other power-hungry tyrants over the years, has led to lots of dangerous artifacts and creatures and everything else living in here now. But a little magic, and anything that might try to kill you while you sleep should be all taken care of — but a word of warning, when Mrs W makes you start cleaning with everyone else this afternoon, she's going to try to make you do it entirely muggly. I'm sure if you challenge her, her excuse will be that you're underage, even though we all know that the Trace is meaningless here, but she's been making her kids, even the twins who are of age and can legally perform all the magic they want, clean everything by hand. So just be prepared for a fight when you pull out your wand to clean things the efficient way."

"Thanks for the warning," said Hermione, as she stared around at the dusty, abandoned room. "So how do we do this?"

" _Scourgify_ 's the best for all the general dust, grime, and mold," answered Tonks. "The vacuum cleaner spell will get all the dirt out from tight corners and off curtains and bed sheets and such that _Scourgify_ doesn't get well enough. _Petrificus_ for most moving objects be it pests or enchanted objects, and stationary dark artifacts are best handled individually as we come to them as they're all different."

So Hermione and Tonks pulled out their wands and set to work. By the time they heard Mrs Weasley calling for them to come down and join everyone else for lunch in the bedroom all the Weasleys had been cleaning muggly all morning, the two of them had Hermione's room shining brightly, and free from anything that could attack her under it's own volition. They even had several dark artifacts removed and stuck in a box in Tonks's room where she was storing them until she could take them in to the aurors office to be destroyed or disenchanted.

"In my official position as a qualified auror, I declare this room safe for occupancy," said Tonks as they looked around. "Nothing else potentially dangerous in here can harm you without you getting too close to it."

"Then let's go get some lunch, and face the music of trying to speed up their cleaning process by being smart," smirked Hermione in reply, before suddenly noticing something about her cleaning-mate. "Um…Tonks? Wasn't your hair blonde and several inches shorter when we started? Because it definitely wasn't lime green."

Tonks smirked back, as her hair slowly changed to deep blue, then on to purple, through pink, and finally settling on lime green again, only with horizontal bands of orange running though it this time.

"You're a metamorphmagus!" gasped Hermione, finally understanding.

"I knew the smartest girl at Hogwarts could figure it out," smirked Tonks. "But yes — I _am_ a metamorphmagus, and can change any part of my body at will. But I just normally change my hair, unless I'm on an auror mission I need to change my looks for for any number of reasons, or if I'm going to have to do a lot of running so there's less bouncing."

"Most girls would use that skill for the opposite reason," replied Hermione with a smile, looking at Tonks' still small chest. "At least based on the number of potions and spells I've seen tried by my dormmates over the last couple years."

"Oh yeah — none of my dormmates, or anyone else who put together that I was a metamorphmagus when I was at Hogwarts could ever understand why I didn't use it to change myself into their definition of beauty and attractiveness," answered Tonks. "But that's just never been me — never worn makeup, either, even for the few dates or couple of fancy events thrown by Hogwarts during my seven years there. The hair's fun to play with, though I usually go eccentric more than alluring, but my looks are how they are, and if someone doesn't like them, we obviously wouldn't be meant for each other anyway."

"I totally agree," replied Hermione. "For the Yule Ball last year, all I did was dress robes, that weren't anywhere near as fancy and extravagant as most of the girls', and just a tiny bit of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion so it would be close enough to wavy instead of this normal bushy mess that I could wrap it up slightly fancy to go with the dress robes and fancy atmosphere — but that was all I did, and why it only took me fifteen minutes to get ready instead of the three plus hours I heard some of the other girls talking about it taking them to get ready. Harry asked _me_ out, the girl he hung out with every day who never wears any kind of makeup or anything else, so why would I change to look like something different for what he invited me to? And putting on a bunch of makeup to look 'natural', instead of just being natural, is just plain stupid in my opinion."

"Totally," nodded Tonks. "If I'm already with a friend, or already dating a guy, I don't mind having a little fun every once in a while with what I can do, it _is_ a cool gift, but I'm not going to change the physical me to get someone to like me. But Mrs W _might_ physically change our backsides with a switch if we don't get down to lunch, so we should really get going," she finished with a smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

Down on the second floor a minute later, Hermione and Tonks walked into the bedroom the Weasleys had all been cleaning all morning.

It still looked incredibly grimy and dirty, just wet now from where they'd been trying to clean with water and soap. Unable to stand the gross feeling it gave her, Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it around the room, saying, "Scourgify."

By the time anyone in the room realized what was happening, and specifically Mrs Weasley realized what was happening, Hermione was already done and sticking her wand back in her pocket, a decade's worth of grime gone in five seconds, and the room looking two hundred percent better because of it.

"Hermione Granger!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley in shock and outrage. "You are underage! You can't use magic!"

The rest of the Weasleys were all too shocked at how much better the room looked in just five seconds compared to their several hours of work, to say anything at all.

"Oops," replied Hermione dryly with absolutely zero remorse, sitting down next to Tonks on the now mostly clean bed. It still needed the vacuum cleaner charm ran over it before _she_ at least would be willing to sleep in it, but it was at least clean enough to sit down on to eat lunch.

Glaring at the muggleborn, but unable to perform any countercharm to bring all the dirt and grime back so it could be cleaned 'properly', Mrs Weasley began passing out the sandwiches she had brought up from the kitchen, which promptly brought everyone else out of their shock at the rapidly improved state of the room. The twins quickly greeted Hermione cheerfully, while Ron merely glared at her, still clearly not having forgiven her for siding with Harry the year before.

~HP~

Once lunch had been going on long enough, Mrs Weasley ordered them all back to work.

Before heading back down to the kitchen with the empty dishes, she handed Hermione a bucket of soapy water and a cloth and said sweetly, "If you can wipe down the curtains, dear…."

But Hermione simply pulled her wand back out of her pocket, refusing to touch the bucket and cloth Mrs Weasley was holding. And turning without a word to the redhead, she walked over to the curtains and casting the charm, began running the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, removing all the dirt and grime and dust and mold that Scourgify hadn't got on her quick pass over when she'd first entered the room.

No sooner had she started syphoning the filth out from the curtains and making them look practically brand new, Mrs Weasley shouted, "No magic, young woman! You are underaged, and not allowed to perform magic outside of school!"

Hermione turned, wand held up in front of her. "Then kick me out — I'd much rather be at home with my parents than in this bloody dump, anyway. I didn't ask to be kidnapped and brought here, in case you conveniently forgot, so if I am going to have to be your slave for the summer and clean this squalor that you failed to clean before inviting a bunch of 'children' to live in, I'm bloody well going to do it by magic. You are not my mother, and not my legal guardian by any laws recognized by the British police or courts, so you have no authority over me. So either let me get back to doing what you should have been doing this whole time, or let me go back home where I'd much rather be anyway."

Ron and Ginny stared at her in disbelief, the twins looked like they were holding back from cheering and letting out whoops of joy, Sirius looked at her in a mixture of surprise and pride, and Tonks merely smirked, having definitely found her new bff.

But Mrs Weasley looked like she'd just been physically slapped, hard.

She sputtered in outrage for several seconds, before finally managing to get out, "How dare you speak to me like that, young woman! I offer to let you come here and be part of the fight against You-Know-Who, feed you, and give you somewhere to live, and this is how you repay me!?"

"I dare, because you have no authority over me no matter how much you try to act like it. You never _offered_ me anything, you demanded I come when I specifically told you I didn't want to. When we got here, you made it clear you aren't going to let me into the Order that's actually fighting against Voldemort — that's his name, or at least the one everyone still remembers, so you might as well get used to it and stop being such a sniveling coward about a name — so unless someone cares to enlighten me on how I'm wrong, you _aren't_ going to let me be a part of the fight against Voldemort despite the fact that Harry and I have done more to stop Voldemort's return since his failed attempt to kill baby Harry than any of you adults have. And once again, you aren't 'feeding me and giving me somewhere to live' when you forced me to come here against my will — you're simply not violating the basic human rights prisoners are universally agreed to have by the Geneva Convention and similar international agreements."

Once again, everyone was left staring at Hermione, most in some part for not even completely understanding everything she had said, only Tonks having understood the Geneva Convention reference as none of the purely magical people in the room had ever heard of it before. But they were also staring at her for so resolutely standing up to the Matriarch, and refusing to cower. If they were named Sirius, Tonks, or the twins, that is — Ron and Ginny looked like they'd never heard such vile disrespect for their perfect mum in all their lives. And the Matriarch herself simply looked like her brain had stopped working altogether at being told 'no'.

After several seconds of everyone just staring at her, especially Mrs Weasley, Hermione knew she had her answer, and turned back to the curtains and began cleaning them with her wand again, letting everyone behind her do whatever they pleased. She wasn't going to be allowed to go back home like she'd've preferred, so she was going to make her cell for the summer at least worth living in.

Half a minute later, she finally heard everyone else start getting to work again, followed very quickly by Mrs Weasley shouting, "No! Absolutely not! I absolutely forbid it!"

Hermione turned to see the Matriarch glaring at the twins, both of whom had their wands out about to start cleaning the dressers on the other side of the room. Knowing the twins weren't pushovers, and were of-age now, Hermione paused her own cleaning to watch the fireworks.

"We're of age! We're allowed to do magic now!" shouted the one she was pretty sure was Fred.

"You can't stop us from doing magic!" bellowed George at the same time.

So before a full on row could start, Sirius quietly said, "They're right Molly — they are of age, which means they can legally perform magic if they want to."

Glaring at everyone she could, Mrs Weasley finally turned and stormed out of the room without a word, knowing she had lost but unwilling to admit it. Silence reigned for several seconds, before Hermione turned back to the curtains and began cleaning again, which spurred everyone else into action as well.

Within fifteen minutes, all the surface grime was gone, and the room looked new again for the first time in over a decade. Following Tonks' lead, they then all began tackling the enchanted and dark objects lurking in the room, giving everything dangerous to Tonks to take to the aurors office, and throwing away all the normal junk collected over the years. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Hermione noticed that while she, the twins, Sirius, and Tonks were all using magic, Ron and Ginny still weren't, apparently either too scared of their mother to dare cross her wishes, or else too enamored by her to do anything other than what she wanted, even if it was much harder and completely stupid.

~HP~

Mrs Weasley didn't return until she came up to call them all down to supper, clearly astounded at how much progress they had made based on the look on her face when she entered the bedroom they were almost done with.

"This is the second room you've cleaned today?!" she said in disbelief as she looked around.

"Third — amazing what you can do when you use your God-given skills of being a witch and wizard," replied Hermione dryly.

As the twins snickered behind her, Mrs Weasley first gaped at hearing that they were on their third room that afternoon alone when it had been taking two days or more per single room previously, before hardening at Hermione's snark about using magic.

"Everyone's here and it's suppertime, you can all come down now," she growled after a few seconds, before turning and stalking back out of the room.

Everyone quickly followed after her, happy to finally be released from their work, even if it _had_ gone a lot better and quicker since Hermione had stepped up and dared to used magic.

Supper was the typical loud affair it was with seven redheads and another dozen adults or so, some she knew and some she didn't, but Hermione mostly spent her time talking with Lupin and Tonks, catching up with what the werewolf had been doing since he'd taught them two years earlier, and learning more about Harry's godcousin, her new best friend at Grimmauld Place.

But eventually supper wrapped up, and Dumbledore took Hermione to the side.

"I have already informed Mister Weasley of this" — Hermione assumed the headmaster meant Ronald, not Arthur — "but due to the high risk of owls being captured and letters going astray due to the war we are now in, you cannot write about what is going on here or where here is, or anything you may hear about the war against Voldemort, and all letters must be read over by one of the adults before you can send them. I know you want to keep Harry informed, but I'm sure you understand the necessity of these new measures — we can't have anything important falling into the wrong hands at a time like this."

Hermione simply nodded and replied, "Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir," knowing it didn't matter in the least whether she understood, or agreed, or not, just as it didn't matter whether she even wanted to be there in the first place — she had no choice, and the adults would force whatever they thought best without any regards to anyone else's beliefs on the matter, no matter how intelligent or well-informed.

She also immediately began thinking of how she could get around the rule and tell her boyfriend everything he needed to hear to not go insane or become clinically depressed, two things none of the adults in the wizarding world in positions of authority over Harry ever seemed to have heard of.


End file.
